The Abridged Tale of Narcissus
by An.Arcane.Hamartia
Summary: A short story told from four different points of view surrounding the story of Narcissus, and a potentially different outcome of his circumstances. Stemmed from an English project which was inspired by the prologue of The Alchemist.


My fingers wove through the soft blades of grass at the lake's edge, but I didn't feel it. I didn't feel anything; didn't register any of the sweet intricacies of the world passing around me. There was only that distant, flawless face who was forever staring back. I wanted –needed– to get closer, but if I tried reaching to it, it dispersed quickly into nothingness, before it'd slowly reform. I required a new approach, which is why my own face began moving closer and closer to the image of perfection. I was soon engulfed by its beauty, and was numb to my new asphyxiation. Through waves of darkness, the next thing I know, I'm rooted and petal'd and without control of my own movements. I hear weeping and far-off voices, but they, like me, fade. Suddenly there are soft fingers wrapping around me and I'm stretched, as if on a rack, and torn in half. If a scream could escape my core, it would, but it remains caught within me. After the initial pain, I can feel myself dying, and I don't know whether I'm more saddened, or grateful.

* * *

Grateful was all I could feel when he fell in love with his own reflection, the one which only I was capable of giving him. It allowed for me the capability to see myself, and reflect upon my own deep, mysterious allure. In reflecting him, I truly began to mirror him. This one fateful day, he began finally to realize my charm, and at first gave me a tickle, and then moved right in to join me forever. I was quick to grasp onto him with a firm hold and pull him down to where we could pass an eternity together. What I didn't foresee was that he would perish under our unyielding bond. All which remained of him was a flower, and I felt my attraction fade. In that flower I could not see myself, and so I was left to weep about what had been. The day the very last of my past friend was taken away from me, I didn't know whether I was more apathetic, or indignant.

* * *

Indignation burned in my stomach like a forest fire at the moment when that young girl, that young, _foolish_ girl had the audacity to take Narcissus away from me. The lake had him for so long, being the only one able to contemplate his beauty close at hand, when I could only pursue. Upon the gorgeous man's lunacy though, he'd cast himself into the lake. I wept with the lake, but discovered in a short time that Narcissus' disappearance was short lived when he returned as a part of my own kingdom, a small flower. Finally I had waited long enough to reap the rewards. It was then, however, that the thoughtless fiend of a girl spat on my hypothetical grave. Not only was she tearing flesh from my bone, ripping a finger from my hand, but she was taking away my dearest Narcissus. With my offended flames of fury, I knew she would soon grow bored and throw him to the side, and I could do nothing to cease her actions. I was unsure if I felt more powerless than ever before, or if I would simply forget about him as she would, in indifference.

* * *

Indifference is hardly part of my vocabulary. I was moseying my way through the majestic trees, taken aback by their grandeur, when I stumbled into a clearing belonging to a vast lake. Its exquisite beauty left me in complete awe, and so instinct lead me as I stepped nearer. I came to the edge, and noticed a patch of soft grass where someone must have been sitting for a very long time indeed, because the grass in that spot was squished down, and yellowing with death. Somehow right amidst that patch grew the loveliest ivory-white and sun-yellow flowers. My flowing skirt fluttered as I knelt at its side. I longed to both give it a better life where it could be surrounded by a bouquet, instead of this dying grass, and to show it to mother. With the purest intentions, I plucked it at the stem, and did not hear any cries of anguish or rage. I didn't know whether I was more excited, or gleeful to have stumbled across this glorious little, breathtaking flower.


End file.
